


Now That You're Gone

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Episode 1, cute boys loving each other, good for the heart phiyuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9498722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri and Phichit's life in Detroit before Yuuri leaves for Japan.Phichit gave Yuuri his heart when he was simply asked only for his time. Now Yuuri's leaving Detroit and Phichit lifts his hand up to wave one last time at his roommate, only he ends up wiping the tears pooled in his eyes.





	

Detroit Metropolitan Airport, Yuuri had landed about an hour ago already yet he still wasn't out. 

Phichit waited for him with two tall paper cups filled with Yuuri’s favourite coffee and a banner that read _‘Boy Toy Name Troy(uuri) Used To Live In Detroit’._

 

He was dressed warmly in a bulky black jacket lined with sheep wool. His jeans were an identical colour black to his jacket and so were the sneakers that just made it past his ankle. His hair peeked out through the red beanie he stole from one of Yuuri’s drawers even though it covered most of his head. He had ear muffs on just in case (Yuuri was cold). 

 

The people around him hummed with pleasure. The terminal was full of people running into someone’s arm’s, a soft embrace, a gentle handshake and sometime’s just a smile and nod. 

They are greeting’s toned and eccentric, a cheer loud enough for all of Michigan to know that yes, Joanne was finally back from her trip to Italy. Phichit couldn't bring himself to care about Joanne and her skin that’s glowing thanks to the Italian sun, he wanted to see Yuuri, to congratulate his best friend, he wanted to train with him on the ice and ask him _how are you doing, Yuuri? You’re an amazing skater, I wanted to ask you if you could show me how to land a triple axel._

 

Turned out Yuuri was cold. Phichit gave Yuuri the beanie and the ear muffs and an extra pullover he had in his backpack and was unzipping the jacket he had on until Yuuri stopped him. He didn't say much, not when he read the banner, not when Phichit hugged him and not when Phichit bought him a slice of delectable chocolate cake to go along with his coffee. They drank silently, the heater blowing warm air in the taxi the only sound. Phichit looked over worriedly to Yuuri. _Are you okay are you okay are you okay tell me what I can do to help are you okay?_ Yuuri’s face offered no explanation. His expressions were expressionless. His eye’s were so empty yet so full. The iris’s of his eyes moved left, right, up, down, down, down and stayed. Phichit could've coughed up heaven and Yuuri, distant, would've mistaken it for the common cold. _It’s okay. He’s not. And even if he doesn't get over it, it’s okay. It’s all okay, as long as he’s coping. He’ll do okay. He’ll do okay. He’ll be okay._ Yuuri’s determination granted that.

 

They were dropped off a block away from the dormitory because the ice was an inconvenience. Phichit linked his arm around Yuuri’s as they walked, almost frozen to the point of crystallisation. 

 

“I’m just going to go ahead and tell you, I got you a birthday gift. Jesus, the amount of scouring I did for it,” Phichit smiled.

 

Yuuri looked up and to his side to look at his best friend. He was clenching and unclenching his fist, Phichit noticed. With a faint smile on his face, he unhooked his arm with Yuuri’s and reached down to pry Yuuri’s fist open. One finger at a time. A kiss on each finger. A kiss so tender and light, it was blown away before the wind could reach. Keeping Yuuri’s finger’s spread, Phichit placed his hand within Yuuri’s. Cold. So cold. Phichit brought their entwined hands up to his cheek. He brushed Yuuri’s hand against it.

 

“You’re cold. Let’s hurry. I even stocked up on vanilla bean crème filled doughnuts for you,” Phichit said, picking up his pace.

 

“M’not really cold,” Yuuri mumbled, his words Phichit caught.

 

Phichit always did that. Managed to pick up every small thing Yuuri put out. He managed to pick it up and use it to bribe god. Something so minuscule threatened whatever deity. Yuuri shook the world to its core. _Give him a break. Allow him to work towards something better._

 

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Come on now. I need to drag you with me to the track every morning just so you can run faster,” Phichit spoke hurriedly, holding onto Yuuri’s hand tighter (it was warmer now. Yuuri was warmer now. Phichit was the warmest) and quite literally dragging his slumped figure through the mushy snow. It’s been a few days and the white was now mixed with brown. Dark brown, a dark brown that was almost black, mahogany, hazelnut, brown, all brown and dirty and wet shoes. 

 

Their dorm room hadn't changed for five years. Just like how boundaries were put up, they were taken down. Sticky notes tacked onto the wall, five years worth of anxious tears seeped into the wooden floor, five years worth of Phichit being god-sent: Count to ten, Yuuri. Belly breathe, belly breathe, belly breathe. Inoutinoutinoutinoutinoutagainagainagain. The sachets of sugar are in my drawer, I’ll get them.

 

It was something like that. Something like trust. Something so well-built. Something like safety and security, something like _DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT! DON’T UNDERESTIMATE HIM! STOP LOOKING DOWN ON HIM! YOU’LL SEE!_

 

Yuuri was so exhausted, it seeped through his skin. Oops, it got away. Phichit gladly took Yuuri’s suitcase from his red hands. Between the weight of the suitcase and the stairs, Phichit’s heart was overworked but it didn't stop him from racing into their room, impatiently unlocking the door and searching the room for the tightly wrapped birthday gift. He hugged Yuuri for the what- third? time that day. He sang a little birthday song for him - in Japanese to feel like home. 

 

“You should open it! You’re going to love it enough to kiss me, Yuuri,” Phichit’s voice was joyous and warm and soft and homely, he succeeded.

 

The tape was layered with tape and more tape, tackier than the next. Phichit made Yuuri comfortable on his own bed. _His bed_ with the blue comforters and too soft pillows. Yuuri was 

already feeling lighter. Phichit brought him a pair of scissors and urged him onward. The crinkly, purple wrapping overpowered the noise of the heater in their room that hasn't been working for the longest time. Phichit’s eye’s had three bright constellations in them as he sat cross-legged before Yuuri, looking up at his best friend, his roommate, his rink mate. Every time he moved, the wrapping paper made a peevish sound, and every time the wrapping paper made a peevish sound,  Yuuri’s smile grew a bit wider. 

 

Giving up the element of surprise, Phichit practically cried in delight, “Overwatch! Are you ready, Yuuri? I’m ready. I’m ready. I filled the fridge and pantry with everything you love. If we start now maybe Ciao will let us sleep in tomorrow until the evening.”

 

“Could I take a shower and a nap before everything gets a bit hardcore, please?” Yuuri asked. He set his birthday gift down on the side table and hugged his best friend tight enough for him to lose his breath. 

 

Fighting to get free from Yuuri’s deathly grip, Phichit gave his approval through ragged breaths and said, “I’ll give you some privacy, but when I’m back from practice we’re going to fuck to shit up.”

 

“We’re going to fuck shit up,” Yuuri repeated, unenthusiastically.

 

“It’s so good to have you back,” those were Phichit’s parting words.

 

♢

 

Yuuri showered, he spoke to his parents, but he didn't sleep. Not a wink. Not even a little dozing off, because despite the burning of his eyes, everything he missed out on weighed down on him. Vicchan. He didn't get to say goodbye. He didn't get to rub his tummy. He didn't get to tangle his fingers through his curly tufts of fur. _Give me another chance, I miss him._ He let his parent’s down. He let Vicchan down. He let Minako down. He let Coach Celestino down. So much for Detroit. 

 

Yuuri’s pain was suffocated by the pillow he dug his face into. _If I hold it to me long enough maybe I won’t have to breathe anymore, maybe I won’t let Japan down as they each throw a handful of loamy soil on my coffin. But I want to be cremated and I want my remains scattered somewhere where it won’t interfere with anyone. The Dead Sea. There’s nothing in there. Nothing my ashen remains could kill._

 

He was tossing and turning and losing hope so he got up and paced from one side of the room to the other, peeling down posters and cleaning out closets. He’s been wanting to do it for a while now. He went as far as to nearly booking a flight back home until the door opened slightly, Phichit’s head peaked through. He wore a bright smile like he always did and the red beanie from earlier.

 

“You should keep that beanie,” Yuuri was rushing to close his laptop shut. 

 

“I don’t have a problem sharing it, unless you do. My thighs really hurt today after all those quads. You’re lucky you got a day off,” Phichit replied obliviously. 

 

Yuuri was seated on one of two bean bag chairs before the large television. He tapped the empty seat beside him, the game was already loading. 

 

“Just getting us a few snacks,” Phichit pointed to the fridge.

 

“Are you making coffee?” Yuuri asked, face concentrated on the screen.

 

“Yes. Just place all your orders in now before I sit down.”

 

Yuuri laughed. It was loud and it immediately made him feel self-conscious so he contemplated his next words carefully, “How about a hamburger with a side order of death?” He laughed again and Phichit was jumping through the roof and gobbling on the clouds. Helping Phichit, they brought armfuls of junk to the floor where they attempted each level (failed them all three times. Thanks Phichit.)

 

Neither remembered the last time they did something so satisfying. Their hands were locked onto the controllers and their eyes to the screen. Maybe it was the 6 hour glare of the screen or dust or something, but now as the first few birds chirped at the break of dawn and shuffling began outside in the halls, Yuuri felt the wet tears drip drip down onto his left hand. He was reaching for another doughnut. His mouth was as puffy as his eyes, Phichit no different, except he wasn't crying. Because he was worrying. Worrying off his fucking rockers because _do we fail this level for the forth time so I get to hold Yuuri in my arms and make him talk?_

 

Phichit fucked up. He cried out, “I swear it wasn't on purpose!”

 

It was on purpose.

 

“You’re probably tired. You should get some sleep in before practice,” Yuuri suggested, the game on pause.

 

“Talking down to me as if we haven't done this countless of times before,” Phichit retorted. He kept his face to the screen, not wanting to look at Yuuri because that would corner Yuuri. He didn't want him to be built up for everything he wanted to say.

 

Phichit listened to the boy three years his senior. Not even bothering to clean up, or switch off anything, he crawled beneath his large comforter, breathed steadily as Yuuri switched the lights off and lowered the volume of the game. Phichit wasn't sleeping and Yuuri wasn't playing, he just sat staring off ahead. Phichit watched until he could no longer stand the ache in his from seeing his friend in such a condition. 

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit whispered, his voice coarse from not using it in a while. He coughed a little and reached for the bottle on his bedside table. By now, the sun was almost up, but apart from the chirping  and melodramatic squeaking of the few animals that decide to come out during winter, everything was dead. It was Christmas break after all. The only students on campus were the one’s who didn't or couldn't go home, the one’s who wished they had some place to go to and the figure skaters, because World’s and Nationals were coming up soon. Time was precious and any time is practice time when funds are tight. Which they mostly always were.. 

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit called. Yuuri craned his neck so his face was facing Phichit. His usual skin tone was dusted with little blotches of pink and red. “Come here, Yuuri.”

 

The truth is, no matter how much he hated himself for it, Yuuri wanted to be hugged by Phichit. Hugged to the point where the aching in his chest was equally shared by Phichit just because of close proximity. He hated that he depended on Phichit for that. He hated that sometimes he needed to share a burden with someone, because his shoulders weren't broad enough to carry that on his own. He, most importantly, hated himself for giving Phichit something to worry about. Everything boiled down to Phichit being Yuuri’s lifeline. It’s always been Phichit and Yuuri. You could have one without the other, but when Yuuri smiled the hardest and laughed the brightest it was because Phichit was right there.

 

So Yuuri walked over to Phichit. The movements between the two were fluid, a routine repeated so often it felt much like falling on the ice. Yuuri counted his steps toward the bed because he was afraid to look anywhere but down and Phichit took one pillow from underneath his head, fluffed it and shifted to one side to make space for Yuuri on the other. He opened up the layers of blankets and the one duvet that served no justice. Climbing over Phichit to the space next to him, Yuuri was careful not to mistakenly step on any limbs of his small-built friend. Yuuri made himself comfortable, but it didn't take much as he eased himself into the foamy mattress, the sheets already warmed by Phichit’s body heat. Their legs were tangled and cold and as expected, Phichit’s cold feet were on Yuuri’s as he shrieked and tried inching away, but to no avail. 

 

Phichit’s hand found Yuuri’s like it always did when nothing and everything felt right. He held onto it tightly. He drew patterns softly with his fingers. He drummed on it. His fingers were dancing along with Yuuri’s. It wasn't a distraction but rather a habit, as he animatedly spoke of almost too hilarious events that occurred during the time Yuuri was attending the Grand Prix Final with Coach Celestino. Phichit didn't mind that Yuuri didn't laugh. He carried on speaking, over dramatising events to the point that nothing sounded real anymore, everything was simply explained through _magic._ Everything through Phichit’s eyes was just that. Everything that came out or stayed in or attacked internally was magic, because magic was only real when Yuuri was there to initiate it. 

 

Magic was the clandestine spark Phichit felt every time Yuuri widened his eyes or straightened his glasses or said sorry in threes. Every molecule within Yuuri was evaded with magic, you couldn't help but feel it. 

 

“I missed having your body this close to mine,” Yuuri blurted out finally, his confession interrupting Phichit mid-sentence. 

 

“I missed having someone to warm my feet on,” Phichit replied, completely forgetting about a rink mates deadly fall. 

 

He was an entire head shorter than Yuuri so he huddled closer to him, his head resting snug between the crook of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder. Now they were both silent, both non-daring enough to break the thickening awkwardness. They both knew it was coming. Straight from the kiss and cry when his score was announced, Yuuri knew when he got back he’d have Phichit bundled up in his arms waiting for either to speak. Destined. 

 

Disregarding the lack of noise, Yuuri screamed out as something nipped on his toes. Phichit got such a shock, he was sitting upright, a few thousand miles away from the closure of Yuuri’s arms. “What the hell is that? Phichit those aren’t your legs, they can’t be,” Yuuri was now red in the face.

 

Phichit pondered for a while before bursting out into fits of laugher. They were loud and uncontrollable as Yuuri brought his legs up to his chest, flexing his toes, making himself as small as possible. “What the fuck is that? What did you do? Don’t tell me you got another hamster. Remember what happened the last time they found out we had a pet in here? Coach had to intervene so much for them not to suspend us!”

 

Breathing hard from his reaction to Yuuri, Phichit finally spoke up, “Yuuri-kun, calm down. It’s not a hamster, it’s three. Although I really don't know how it managed to get out of the cage. I could've sworn I locked the door when I replaced the water for them this afternoon. “

 

“Three?!” Yuuri had a hard time breathing, Phichit had a hard time keeping a straight face.

 

“Neither of us are asthmatic so none of us will die having them around. Think on the bright side!” Now Phichit was under the blanket looking for the furry rascals. Yuuri turned the lights on dimly. He watched Phichit carefully lift a bronze coloured hamster into his cupped palm and place it in the dull, green cage which he hadn't noticed before. 

 

“Have you named them yet?” Yuuri asked him, “Come back here, I’m feeling cold.”

 

“I got them the day of the Final. The gold one is named after you, Yuuri, because he’s the best boy. Silver for Viktor, because the golden hamster and the grey one are mates,” Phichit winks, “and the bronzey one that bit your toes is named Chris, because he looked fiery that day. Hot as hell. God, you have no idea.” 

 

Yuuri snuggled closer to Phichit as he settled in the bed once again. Now their head’s were in line but their feet so awkwardly positioned. Both of their arms wrapped around each other. Both of their thighs wrapped around each other. Both of their tongues wishing they could be wrapped around each other.

 

“This good?” Phichit asked. Yuuri nodded against Phichit’s head. They bumped noses, foreheads, cheek to cheek. 

 

“Comfortable enough to fall asleep. I think I might,” Yuuri sighed and closed his eyes. Phichit felt the flutter of eyelashes. It wasn't much, but it was Yuuri so it was enough to drive him off the edge. Both their breaths were steady, slowed and in-sync. They were being rocked to sleep by the tormenting company of the other. It was so platonic, it no longer was.

 

“You should've been the one to go to the Grand Prix Final. You missed the podium at Skate America because of me. You should've been there with me. Maybe everything would've been easier to handle. Maybe Coach wouldn't have been so disappointed.” Yuuri eventually said. His voice cracked twice, because he was tired, because he knew it needed to be said and because he didn't want to say it. 

 

“You got there fair and square. Don't blame yourself for my shortcomings, it only reminds me I have more to work on. Don’t compare yourself to me either, we each have our individual strengths and you deserved your spot there more than anyone else in that competition. Nobody can beat the Katsuki Yuuri, nobody’s met the raging beast within you. You’re. So. Good. So. Good, Yuuri. I can’t say it enough, because words mean something close to nothing,” Phichit’s voice was resonant. 

 

Yuuri’s words were caught in his throat. 

 

Phichit carried on, “I know how hard you trained. I was there when your feet bled as much as your nose did. I was there when some days you couldn't see straight because of the glare of the ice. I was there to watch you flourish into this amazing athlete and I watched with anticipation as you took to the foreign ice to show your love to the world and I watched as nothing went your way and as you rubbed your eyes, making them redder. And it sucks, I know it does. I can’t say I understand because I probably never will. What happened might feel like the end of the world then and now and maybe two years down the line too, but one day you're going to look back at it and wish you took advantage of the time before it’s too late. I’m not saying you need to feel better, because that’s entirely wrong, I’m saying you need to find love for what you do, because otherwise what’s the use? Just know that now and forever I’ll be here, my heart lined up with your ribcage and my head resting on your warm skin. Always here, cheering on your success.”

 

The words in Yuuri’s throat were non-existent. Words don't exist outside of Phichit. He was the creator. The way his lips formed shapes, the pleasant sound he brought to the language, Yuuri was all realising. Phichit owned everything, Yuuri owed Phichit everything and Yuuri had nothing worthy to give to Phichit, not a single note of his voice, not one simple movement. 

 

Silence. Silence. S   i   l        e           n             c                e was always enough for Phichit, Yuuri knew, so he gave. 

 

“Maybe I’ll come to training with you this afternoon,” Yuuri said with a drop of drool in the corner of his mouth and Phichit’s fingers caught in the hair by his nape. Yuuri imagined he could feel Phichit’s fingerprints, he wanted to make it known that he had his hands all over his body, head to toe. He wanted his hands to touch the places they haven’t. He was too scared to ask so fingerprints stayed on Yuuri’s neck and arms and face and that is all. 

 

♢

 

“Man, you don't look ready to train at all. You’re wearing jeans. I think I’ve seen you wearing jeans like twice, both times were _holy shit awesome!_ ” Phichit said as Yuuri walked alongside him on a pathway that snow was cleared from. 

 

“I have no intention of training today, but do my jeans today look _holy shit awesome_?”

 

“Yes, your thighs in black denim truly are a thing of beauty,” Phichit laughed and then leaned closer to Yuuri to whisper something in his ear. “That boy behind us is totally checking you out.”

 

Flapping Phichit away, Yuuri’s face was an intense shade of red, “He is not. It’s you. You’re checking me out.”

 

“You’re the closest speck of gorgeous I have ever seen, a close second to Christophe. What else can I do?”

 

“Close your mouth. You’re drooling,” Yuuri deadpanned and sped up the pace of his walking. 

 

“I’m joking,” Phichit was laughing now, menacing Yuuri, “not about Chris, though.”

 

“You can have him all to yourself next year. I won’t be competing,” Yuuri said.

 

Phichit stopped. Dead in his tracks, “Yuuri, what?”

 

“I’m going to end it with Coach Celestino and after graduation I’ll be able to leave,” Yuuri explained. Phichit was about to say something, but instead walked ahead of Yuuri through the doors of the ice rink. Yuuri didn't call out for Phichit, instead he just carried on walked. He should've brought it up in a less blatant way, but it was done. He was done. 

That evening, both boys walked out laughing at each other’s company. Yuuri did what he came to do and in the end, accomplished more. Him and Phichit talked and talked and talked until they laughed and Phichit realised that Yuuri needed that. He hadn't been home in over five years. He needed familiarity, above all else. Stuck with just the two of them in a bubble made for one, both dark haired best friends taught the other intricate step sequences, a series of quads and how to fall and get back up immediately. Their muscles were aching and most of their skin bruised, but that didn't stop them from running ahead and behind of each other; _First one back to the dorm wins!_

 

Yuuri won.

 

“Ah, what does the winner want as a prize? Does asking a question with no judgement count?”

 

“That’s hardly a prize, but sure,” Phichit had his back to Yuuri. He was facing the closet, hanging his puffy jacket back up. 

 

Yuuri was mumbling words that didn't exist. He knew he shouldn't be, but he carried on. Somewhere between the keyboard smashing that exited his mouth, he found some courage. “A kiss. Can I get a kiss? Can I kiss you?”

 

Phichit’s reply with throaty and crumbling. His body knew three small steps would get him in Yuuri’s arms, but it didn't act. “Yes. Please, Yuuri.”

 

Phichit didn't need his body as he caught Yuuri walking towards him, with a smile as large as the crescent moon. Phichit’s smile was there, he could feel it, but milliseconds passed and slowly he closed his eyelids, waiting for Yuuri’s breath to fan his face, for Yuuri’s hand to cup his cheek, for Yuuri’s lips to take him in and kiss him so tenderly. One millisecond. Two milliseconds. Three milliseconds. Four milliseconds. Five milliseconds. Yuuri couldn't get to him fast enough. 

 

Six milliseconds. Yuuri’s body was pressed against Phichit’s. Yuuri was bulky with layers of warm clothing so Phichit did the honours of semi-undressing him. Seven milliseconds. Eight milliseconds. Nine milliseconds. Ten milliseconds. Yuuri’s knitted scarf was off. Yuuri’s tan jacket was off. Yuuri’s black beanie was off. Eleven milliseconds. Phichit’s arms were wrapped around Yuuri’s waist. Twelve milliseconds. One of Yuuri’s hands was placed comfortably at the back of Phichit’s neck. Yuuri’s hands were warm. Thirteen milliseconds. Fourteen milliseconds. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen milliseconds. Yuuri’s other hand stroked Phichit’s cheek. Light as a feather, his thumb touched Phichit’s soft, brown skin. 

 

Seconds. So many of them. The whole quantum of it too large to bear. Phichit realised he hated time, but he wasn't about to have an existential crisis right there as Yuuri stood tall above him, looking down lovingly. Phichit shut his eyes again. 

 

Yuuri tittered. Phichit felt that all over his body. His hair was standing on its ends. “You can open your eyes, when have I ever bitten?”

 

Phichit groaned, “In my dreams.” And then groaned again, “Yuuri, kiss me already.” 

 

And then opened his eyes long enough to see Yuuri bend down and shift his head sideways so their noses wouldn't collide and the soft lick of lips as the pulled his tongue out shortly and the sharp intake of breath before Yuuri’s slicked lips pressed down on Phichit’s. It was too much to bear, the slow, dying-out movement of Yuuri’s lips, the little pressure Yuuri applied with his lip biting down. The softness of it all. Both were equally engulfed by each other. This was a kiss the winner got but never asked for. This was the kiss the loser dreamed about but never thought he would get. 

 

Breaking apart their lips, they gasped for air. Both their hands were under clothes and over skin, yet they still weren't close enough. Telepathically, Phichit followed Yuuri to the bean bag chairs in the corner of the dim room. Using one foot, Phichit kicked his sneakers off and laid down, still trying to contain his beating heart. Yuuri was on his hands and knees, hovering over Phichit, he too unable to catch his dying out breath. So much for stamina. Wandering, Yuuri’s hands were now tightly gripping Phichit’s backside and Phichit’s, locked around Yuuri’s neck trying to get him to come back down to him. Both of them were smiling crookedly, like they were drunk out of their mind’s. 

 

Finally getting Yuuri to latch his lips onto his skin, Phichit pulled on a lock of hair and drew shaky breaths every time Yuuri kissed, sucked and gingerly bit the skin on his neck and levelled up the excitement with a fan of his cold breath. All the kisses on Phichit’s collarbone slowly led up to his anticipated, parted lips, where Yuuri burned Phichit down to the ground. Lips back on lips, Yuuri bit Phichit a bit too hard, which caused him to cry out. Alarmed, Yuuri apologised to which Phichit replied with a giggle and confirmation that it was okay. The moment they awaited came instantly. Tongue touched tongue for the first time. Phichit invented it. It was soft and hard and all sorts of good as drunken sounds of pleasure emitted from them both.

 

Phichit said Yuuri’s name over and over and over again, he said it with so much earnest it’s as if Yuuri’s name was what God breathed into Phichit to give him life. But then Yuuri was saying Phichit’s name again and again as if he’s memorising the two syllables as if he’s the devil and every time his tongue grazes Phichit’s, the blazing fire he’s created with becomes apparent and burns with all its might. It’s hot hot hot so hot and Yuuri’s hot hot hot and Phichit’s hot hot hot like the heater just started working again.

 

♢

 

Back at Detroit Metropolitan Airport, moods were different compared to the last time they were there. Everyone at the university said their goodbyes back then, while Phichit held on to the remaining time he had with Yuuri. 

 

“You look so happy going home, you should've done this a long time ago,” Phichit told Yuuri. 

 

Yuuri nodded, “Its long overdue, I miss my mum, especially. She couldn't make it for my graduation so she’ll really be happy to see me.”

 

Phichit was wearing a coat that had deep pockets so he could keep the hamsters out of sight. It wasn't suspicious at all as he kept his hand’s inside the pocket petting his pets. “Hamster Yuuri will keep me company. His secrets are dirtier than yours.”

 

Yuuri faked his surprise, “What secrets?”

 

“Oh, Vktor. Aaah, Viktor, Viktor! Oh, yes… Mhhmmm oooh, right there. Oh my- Viktor,” Phichit was trying to mimic Yuuri moaning.

 

“When have I ever done that?” Yuuri was not amused.

 

“While you're asleep,” Phichit replied. 

 

“I didn't do that,” Yuuri shortly said.

 

“You’re asleep, how would you know?”

 

The attendant was checking in Yuuri’s luggage and issuing him his boarding pass. Everything was kicked into place. Phichit was feeling sick. Announcing that the flight was now boarding, Phichit didn't delay in giving Yuuri a bone-crushing hug that never ended. He didn't want to let go. Maybe if he hugged Yuuri tight enough he’ll be able to fit in his chest. 

 

Into each other’s clothes, they said their final words. 

 

Yuuri: Thank you, for everything.

Phichit: Take good care of yourself.

Yuuri: Play overwatch enough for us to actually succeed when we play together next time.

Phichit: Eat enough Katsudon for the both of us.

Yuuri: I love you.

Phichit: Text me when you land and then again when you get to Kyushu. 

Yuuri: Thank you.

Phichit: I love you.

 

Phichit, slowly let go of Yuuri only to pull him back in. He said with the biggest smile he could muster, “When you surpass Viktor Nikiforov and make him your husband, keep the golden hamster in mind. I foretold it,”

 

And with that, Yuuri was fixing his glasses and waving goodbye to Phichit and Phichit lifted his hand to wave back, but instead ended up using his raised hand to wipe away his tears. Goodbye, Yuuri, you are magic.

 

♢

 

Yuuri was currently standing in a life Phichit dreamt for him. He missed him dearly, his smile, his rink mate. Sitting at his desk, barefoot and absentmindedly staring at one of his poster’s, he pressed on Phichit’s contact and waited for him to pick up on the other side. 

 

For the first time in a month, he was going to talk to phichit face-to-face once again. He worried that things might be awkward, he worried that things would be gone sour now that Viktor was actually there. The sixty seconds that passed held more worry than it had to, though it all dissolved when a beaming Phichit picked up on the other side. 

 

“Yuuri! Detroit’s boring now that you're gone!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I love them too much!


End file.
